Dangerous Creatures(12)

One.

Two.

Three.

Now.

Ridley pulled out three identical Louis Vuitton bags and handed them to Link, one after another. From the look on his face, she could tell he’d caught the view, all right.

She’d closed the deal. Now all that was left was to break the news to the boy.

Rid walked up to the gas station attendant and handed him her keys. “My car goes back in the carriage house at Ravenwood Manor. Park it as far away from my Uncle Macon’s hearse as possible. My cousin drives that thing like a maniac.” She grabbed his hand. “And I was never here.”

Rid didn’t even need a lollipop anymore, not for most folks in Gatlin. She had a reputation, which was even more powerful. The attendant swallowed and nodded. He took the keys and disappeared back into the garage.

“Does this mean what I think it means?” Link stared at Rid. “You’re comin’ to New York with me?”

“Well, I’m sure as hell not going to Georgia Redeemer with you.”

Link tried not to smile. “You’re serious?”

Surprisingly, Ridley found she had to try just as hard. “As the grave.”

He took a deep breath. “You and me?”

“You see another Siren standing here?” She took a steadying breath herself. “Or you got a problem with that?”

Ridley knew there were a lot of things Link could have said at that moment. He could’ve asked Rid about her change of heart. He could’ve pointed out how she had given John hell for following Liv to England. He could’ve cited their endless non-fight, their big breakup.

Breakups.

But Link didn’t do any of those things. Instead, he gave her a smile as wide as the Mississippi River.

“Well,” Link said.

“Yep,” Rid said.

“I guess we should—”

“Right.”

It only took about ten seconds for Link to awkwardly help Rid cram her three monogrammed bags into the back of the Beater.

“That’s all you brought?” Link seemed shocked.

“That’s just my underwear. One thing I know about the big city, Shrinky Dink, is where to shop.”

Well, I’ll be shopping. You’ll be doing what I need you to do.

That was the plan, anyway. Even if she couldn’t tell Link about it. Ridley felt a pang of guilt, but she pushed it away as quickly as it came.

Whatever. I’ll think about that later.

By the time they were back in the Beater, the awkwardness had passed, and all they were left with was the scandalous thrill of having pulled it off.

Ridley settled into the seat next to Link.

He turned up the music, pulling her close. “I’ve been waitin’ to do this since last night.” He leaned in for a kiss, and she felt an unexpected burst of happiness.

God. I really did miss him, after all. Him, and this.

“Your wait is over, darlin’.” She kissed him back, climbing halfway onto his lap in the process. It was going to be a long drive, and she figured she might as well get comfortable.

Link couldn’t stop smiling, kissing aside. “You just couldn’t stay away, could you?”

“Couldn’t do it to you.” She kissed him again.

He pulled away for a second, grinning at her. “Church college my ass.”

She fluttered her eyelashes. “I’ve been a bad, bad girl, Wesley Lincoln. Think you can redeem me?”

His answer was lost on his tongue.

Or maybe hers.





CHAPTER 6


Welcome to the Jungle


The good-byes were over. By the time John and Liv had boarded their plane for Heathrow and Ethan and Lena were headed for the Massachusetts Turnpike, Link and Ridley were on the way to New York City—the one-and-only setting of Link’s one-and-only dream. It had been a long time coming.

“Remember last time we were in New York City?” Link stole a sideways glance at her.

“You mean the time you pretended to be at church camp?”

“Best band camp ever. Sneakin’ into clubs in the East Village. Crashin’ at youth hostels and YMCAs. Sleepin’ in the Beater.” He patted the dashboard.

“How could I forget.” Ridley smiled. It had been an entirely magical hallucination, laced with powerful Siren mojo.

“Makin’ it in New York, Rid. That’s right up there with signin’ a record label or performin’ at the VMAs.”

“Slow down, Hot Rod. Maybe first you can just try to find a new band.” And I know just where to start looking, Ridley thought.

Link was thinking bigger. “Who knows? This could be the first chapter in my autobiography. Rock On: The Making of a Carolina Icon.” He said it like he hadn’t already told her a thousand times.

Ridley smiled. “And with any luck, maybe you can get your mother to ban your own book from the Stonewall Jackson High School Library.”

Link laughed, settling in behind the wheel. “A guy can dream.” He turned up the music.

Ridley shook her head. At least it wasn’t going to be called Meatstik, the name of his last band. And she had thought the Holy Rollers were bad. The Holy Rollers were the Rolling Stones compared to Meatstik, which was probably the reason that Link hadn’t been able to convince any of the members of his band to come with him to New York. Grable Honeycutt was going full-time at the Summerville Suds-It-Up, and Daryl Homer was just Daryl Homer. He’d probably still be sitting on his mother’s couch this time next year, unless his mother sold it out from under him the way she’d threatened.